Worth It
by DunSpiroSpero
Summary: "She feels like crying, and she feels like she can, so she does. She cries, and he holds her, and assures her that everything will be okay. Somehow, coming from him, it sounds believable, so she allows herself to believe it for a little while."


**A/N: I appreciate all reviews. Set sometime during Season 10.**

She doesn't know how they ended up here. Not in the locational sense of the word. She wonders how he ended up on his knees in front of her bare form in her bedroom. She wonders how they went from best friends and partners to lovers in the span of one day. She tries to remember as her hand finds the back of his head as his lips meet the juncture of her thighs, encouraging him to continue. His lips wrap around her clit and he sucks harshly. She whimpers as she comes around his mouth.

Their first time was frenzied, rushed. They both contained a viceral, almost animalistic need for each other. But as they lock eyes and he enters her slowly, it couldn't be more different. He takes his time with her, learning her body.

They come together, quietly for the most part. Her breath hitches in her throat and her nails bite into the skin of his back. He buries his face in her neck, muffling his groan.

She lifts her head from his chest slightly. The red numbers on the alarm clock on the nightstand read _2:34 a.m._ Separating her limbs from his, Olivia pads out of bed quietly, so as not to wake him. She lifts his discarded dress shirt from the floor, slipping it on and fastening a few buttons to secure it to her naked figure.

She stares at herself in the mirror. Matted hair, purpling bites marking her neck, makeup smudged. Even now, he would think she was beautiful. The thought causes her to let out a light, somewhat sarcastic laugh.

The divorce is barely finalized, and she's already welcomed him into her bed. The notion makes her feel guilty, and she hates it. She probably wouldn't be able to look his kids in the eye, let alone his ex-wife.

She's not sure what did it this time. What sealed the deal on them with the meeting of their lips. Maybe the way he had fully poured forth his heart and soul, maybe the way the look in his crystal blue eyes had told her it was over this time, really over. Maybe it had been the tears that had slipped down his cheeks, reminding her that her superhero, Elliot Stabler, was human, that had drawn her to him.

She misses the creak of the hinges signaling the opening of the door and is startled when his arms wrap around her waist from behind, his nose buried in her hair. He inhales deeply and his lips find her ear. His voice a low rumble.

"Are you coming back to bed?" her eyes slip shut.

She turns in his arms, her lips meeting his. She tries to erase the thoughts from her mind, ease the worry from her forehead, but he's already seen. Concern laces his features, and she descends his figure quickly in an attempt to distract him. Her hands fly to the elastic band of his sweats, and he swiftly grabs both of her hands in one of his.

He grasps her biceps and pulls her up, his blue eyes searching her brown ones.

The arousal from five minutes ago is gone, replaced by graveness.

"Stop." he says, and he hopes that she understands the double entendre. He swallows, and his adam's apple bobs.

"Elliot, don't." she says, and her bottom lip trembles against her will.

"Talk to me." he says, and his voice cracks with worry, hurt, fear. Because what they've done is new territory, unknown.

"Okay."

They are positioned on her couch, her back against one arm, his against the other. She has a glass of water that she has barely sipped from. She needed something to do with her hands. Her eyes trace the trails of condensation against the glass. She's been dreading this conversation. She admits that it's one they need to have. They still haven't resolved a lot of things, and he's already screwed her senseless. Twice. She knows that she could never grow to regret what they did, no matter what events unfold. She just hopes he feels the same.

His eyes are trained on her. He's waiting for her to start talking. He's already said his piece, spilled his guts. Now it's her turn. He doesn't want to push her, but his patience is wearing thin. Very thin. He clears his throat, and she looks up.

"Start talking." he grates out. Her mouth opens and shuts quickly. She doesn't seem able to formulate a word, forget a sentence.

"Elliot," she begins, and it's a start. She sets her glass down on the coffee table. Her teeth worry the inside of her bottom lip. Why is she nervous? This is Elliot.

_Elliot._

She trusts this man more than she has ever trusted anyone. At times she believes that he knows her better than she knows herself.

"I'm scared." she admits after a long pause, her voice splintering with emotion. "What if this doesn't work out, El? What does that mean for us? And what if it does? We've had far too many run-ins with IAB to expect them to turn the other cheek on this one. Tucker's probably dying to take us down for something, anything. Elliot, what about your kids?"

"I don't know." his bottom lip is clamped tightly between his top teeth now.

"Me, either. Maybe- I don't know...maybe it's not worth it."

Suddenly his lips are attacking hers indignantly. His lips close around her top one and he sucks lightly.

Whispered against her lips, "Don't say it isn't worth it. Don't say we aren't worth it, because we are. You are. You're worth my badge, you're worth my job, you're worth my whole fucking pension."

"Elliot, don't say that."

"It's true." his eyes dart back and forth between hers. "Christ, Liv, do you know how long I've wanted you?"

She feels like crying, and she feels like she can, so she does. She cries, and he holds her, and assures her that everything will be okay. Somehow, coming from him, it sounds believable, so she allows herself to believe it for a little while.


End file.
